


If You Go Down To The Woods Today

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [39]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Blade find themselves in a tight spot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Go Down To The Woods Today

Ryan leaned against the wall of the ruined cottage, sweat pouring down his face. His breath was coming in great, heaving sobs. If another pack of those fucking bear-dogs came at them again in the next five minutes they’d be right royally screwed.

“Down to my last clip,” he muttered, staring out of the broken window. “What’s keeping Lyle, the idle fucker?”

“He’s in more trouble than us?” hazarded Blade from his position by the door. “Here, take mine.”

He tossed a full magazine at Ryan, who checked it quickly, gave a brief nod of thanks then stowed it in his ripped and bloodied equipment vest.

“Lyle?” Ryan spoke urgently into the microphone of his radio. “Where the fuck are you, Jon?” A crackle of static was all the reply that greeted his words. “Bastard anomaly’s still us fouling up.”

Blade shrugged. “If the rest of ‘em come at us again we’re fucking shagged anyway.”

“So why’d you give me your last clip?” Ryan took his eyes off scanning the dark pine wood surrounding the ruins for long enough to glance over at his companion.

Blade’s green eyes shone with something that looked suspiciously like amusement, which only served to confirm Ryan’s long-held view that his subordinate was fucking crazy. “If I’m gonna die I’d prefer to do it with a blade in my hand, not a gun.”

“A blade guarantees you entrance to some sort of psycho’s heaven?”

“Doubt it,” the other man grinned. “I reckon I’m destined for somewhere warmer than heaven. Just means I don’t have to worry about not having enough bullets.”

“How many knives have you got?” Ryan asked, with genuine interest. He’d never known Blade run out of the damned things, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. It would just be a bit of a shame if this turned out to be that time.

“Probably not enough,” acknowledged Blade.

It was Ryan’s turn to shrug. This really wasn’t turning out to be their day. They’d been called out to do a search of a desolate stretch of Welsh hillside following a report of ‘wild dogs’ having killed and half-eaten a rambler.

The tracks they had found had been large and heavy, more bear-like than a dog’s prints and it looked like at least three of them had been responsible for bringing the man down. In a matter of minutes, Hart had confirmed that whatever had killed the rambler had headed off into a large and unprepossessing patch of dark Forestry Commission woodland. Temple had consulted a by now impressive database of prints and had declared that in his opinion they were looking for something the size of a tiger with the shape a bear and teeth like a dog. He’d also announced that it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d want to meet on a dark night, and then had promptly looked unhappy when Cutter had pointed out that they were no more than half an hour off dusk.

Five minutes later, life had gone further down the pan when Miss Brown had delivered the news that a group of kids on a Duke of Edinburgh Scheme hike were believed to be somewhere on the same hillside. That had lent an even greater urgency to proceedings, and against Ryan’s better judgment, he had reluctantly agreed to Cutter’s suggestion of splitting the group into three, with Hart and Kermit scouring the woods looking for any sign of the kids, while Cutter, Conner and Abby went in search of the anomaly, with Lyle, Ditzy and Finn for backup.

Ryan and Blade had copped for trying to follow the tracks of something that Temple had confidently predicted would turn out to be an Amphicyon. Blade had earned himself a glare from Abby by muttering that as long as he was allowed to kill it, he didn’t really care what he called it. The pair of them had taken off on the trail before the usual argument had had a chance to kick off.

They’d discovered quite quickly, by the time-honoured means of buggered up comms, that there was indeed an active anomaly in the vicinity. Five minutes after that, the pair of them had realised that, at some indefinable point in the last fifteen minutes, the hunters had become the hunted. The static on their radios had cleared just long enough for Ryan to demand back up and then they’d been engaged in a mad dash through the trees in a running battle with a pack of animals that would have been a sure-fire crowd-pleaser in a fight in a Roman arena.

The creatures combined the size and weight of bears with the agility and speed of wolves. They were large, short-limbed and flat-footed, with powerful muzzles jutting out from broad faces set with sharp, dark eyes. The first two the soldiers had encountered had taken them by surprise, pouncing from behind a tangle of fallen trees. Ryan had been bowled over, one heavy paw taking him to the ground with a blow that would have put a polar bear to shame. His tac vest had fortunately sustained more damage than he had, but it had taken a full burst from Blade’s M4 to even slow the first of the fuckers up, and a second burst from Ryan’s rifle to bring it down. The second one had pelted off into the trees howling in fury, apparently spooked by a combination of the muzzle flashes from their rifles and the loud chatter of the automatic fire.

Moments after their first attempt to call for back-up, gunfire from further away in the woods had told its own tale. They weren’t the only ones having trouble.

“That wasn’t a tranq gun,” Blade had remarked as they’d started to leg it through the trees towards the shadow of a ruined stone cottage they could see ahead of them.

“Lyle won’t take any shit from Cutter if there are kids in the woods,” Ryan had replied, seconds before their world had exploded again into furry chaos, leaving them no time for anything other than a mad scramble for survival.

The sods had overcome their initial fright and proved surprisingly resistant to 5.56mm bullets, leaving Ryan swearing profusely and cursing NATO. After they had repulsed the first few with two full clips of ammunition, Blade had simply slung his rifle across his back and drawn his Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife. Moments later, blood had spurted from the throat of one of the last creatures standing and it had dropped to the ground, leaving Ryan to finish it with a short burst to the head. That had gained them enough time to reach the cottage, which was how they’d ended up sheltering behind its thick stone walls and wondering how long they’d have to hole up before back-up arrived.

As far as Ryan could tell there were at least two of the bloody things still prowling around outside, growling deep in their throats.

“Is that thunder or are they just pleased to see us?” said Blade as he stared out past the broken and rotted timbers of what had once been the front door.

“Perhaps it’s their way of showing affection?” said Ryan.

Blade grinned. “Fine time to find out the phrase ‘loaded for bear’ doesn’t really mean much, boss.”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you, you mad fucker?” said Ryan, incredulously.

His companion’s grin widened. “First time I’ve had a hard-on in action since that night in Kabul.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. It wasn’t the first time he’d had his back to the wall in a tight spot with Blade, and he hoped it wouldn’t end up being the last, but Blade’s ability to get his rocks off in a fight never ceased to amaze him. Sure, Ryan had fairly frequently come out of the other side of an action with a stiffy, but that was afterwards, when raw elation would pool in his gut, sending heat into his dick, but it had never happened to him in the middle of a fight for survival. Not like this when he still didn’t know if today was the day when he wouldn’t make it out the other side.

One of the bears took a menacing step forwards, shaking its head from side to side, the way he’d seen creatures in a zoo do, but for them it was probably a sign of cage-induced madness, rather than a expression of naked aggression. Knowing how many bullets it had taken on average to bring one of the bastards down, Ryan took careful aim and fired one well-placed shot into a log at its feet, sending a shower of splinters upwards and making the bloody thing take a step backwards.

“Taking a leaf out of the Professor’s book, boss?”

“Conserving ammo,” grunted Ryan, in irritation. “They spooked before and if we’re lucky, they’ll spook again. And if you’re itching for a wank, don’t let me stop you.”

His words were greeted by a snort of laughter. “Won’t need to touch myself to get off,” said Blade smugly.

“Don’t you find it distracting?”

“Nah, it’s kinda comforting. Reminds me I’m still alive.”

“You’re fucking bonkers.”

“So I’ve been told. Watch yourself, Daddy Bear’s coming back for a look.”

As looks went, it turned out to be somewhat higher on the scale than a Paddington Bear hard stare. The largest of the bear-dogs hurled itself at the cottage, heading straight for the window. Ryan emptied half a clip into it, then backed up, still firing as the creature hurled itself through the broken stone opening, taking a large chunk of wall with it.

Its companion followed, barging aside the rotten door; splintering it into match-wood. Ryan watched in horror as Blade went down under the creature’s onslaught, too close to hi attacker for him to risk firing into the melee. In any event, Ryan had his own problems in the shape of one very large and very irate Amphicyon.

Adrenalin spiked through Ryan’s body, bringing both heightened awareness and an unexpected hardness between his legs. Jesus H. Christ, this was a first. Blade’s brand of madness appeared to be catching. Ryan backed up, firing with each step he took until he felt the stones of the back wall against his arse.

The bear-dog hesitated. Ryan ejected his empty clip, slammed home the last replacement and fired, all too conscious of the other predator tearing at Blade’s prone form, knowing that he only had seconds to take down the creature menacing him and turn his attention to the other one.

The final bullets punched through the Amphicyon’s thick fur. It stopped and slowly dropped to its knees. Ryan pivoted on one foot, slamming a boot against the creature’s head then bringing down the butt of his rifle with bone shattering force.

Next to him the growling and snarling abruptly stopped. The last bear-dog keeled over sideways, blood pumping from its throat, one long blade buried to the hilt in its chest.

Blade lay prone on the broken slabs of the ruin’s floor, thick red blood covering his hands. Green eyes sought Ryan’s and he saw laughter dancing in emerald fire. Warmth suddenly pooled in Ryan’s gut and before he even had a chance to draw breath, his cock pulsed and he was coming, eyes locked on Blade’s as he watched the younger man hit his own climax, drenched in the blood of his attacker.

“Christ, that was good,” panted Blade, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment as Ryan watched him savour the tremors of his orgasm while the aftershocks of Ryan’s own pleasure travelled through him, dancing like wildfire along his nerve-endings.

“You’re a kinky fucker,” gasped Ryan, leaning back against the wall and wiping the sweat from his eyes.

“Takes one to know one, boss,” Blade laughed, rolling onto his side and wiping his hands on the thick fur of the dead Amphicyon. “Do you reckon Lester’ll let us keep the skins? They’d make bloody good rugs.”

“Not a hope in hell,” muttered Ryan, as his earpiece suddenly crackled into life and he heard Lyle demanding a sit rep. “Jon? Yeah, fuckin’ peachy, mate. Just peachy. Where were you when we needed you?” He listened, gave a short bark of laughter and said, “See you back at the van.” In answer to Blade’s raised eyebrows he grinned and said, “Temple says he told us so and they were Amphithingies, Cutter and Abby are bitching like fuck that Lyle and the lads killed three of ‘em and the kids have turned up in a village on the other side of the hill. Oh, and by the sound of it, Hart’s singing Teddy Bear’s Picnic.”

Blade grinned, showing white teeth in a bloodstained face as he hauled himself upright against the broken wall. “Nice to know someone’s got a sense of proportion.”

“Yeah,” said Ryan, shooting a glance at his companion’s crotch, stained with a mixture of blood and other bodily fluids, conscious of the dampness between his own legs.

After this escapade maybe he wouldn’t be quite so quick to brand Blade a mad bastard.  



End file.
